


Guilty Conscience

by LindtLuirae



Category: Naruto
Genre: Character Study, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Ibiki the Cupcake Man, could be KakaIbi if you squint super close, kakashi's monstrous olfactory senses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LindtLuirae/pseuds/LindtLuirae
Summary: Ibiki knew a man battling with guilt when he saw one. Kakashi didn’t look good.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Morino Ibiki
Comments: 22
Kudos: 95
Collections: Konoha Collection





	Guilty Conscience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyMikiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMikiri/gifts).



> Thank you sweet ladymikiri for this awesome request I had so much fun!
> 
> And thank you Neverstops22 for beta-ing this for me! ❤️

Ibiki sat slouched back in his chair, the perfect picture of relaxation. He had his legs crossed and one arm hanging off the back of his chair as the other casually drummed his finger against the metal of the table. 

He gazed thoughtfully at the man sitting across from him that was chained to his interrogation chair and sweating profusely around his temples. Hyousuke looked like he was struggling hard not to quake under the uncertainty of his situation.

“Well?” Ibiki said, keeping his tone purposely light.

“W-well what?” Hyousuke Fujimoto, chuunin of Konohakagure, stuttered through his crooked teeth. 

Ibiki wasn’t going to help him out. He studied the drying blood under his nails; his previous prisoner had finally cracked after weeks of interrogation, but it had taken some work to break him. 

In comparison, Ibiki wouldn’t even break a sweat over this pathetic boy. 

A kunai materialised in his hand, earning a sharp breath from Hyousuke. God, he loved this trick, like all the sharp, deadly weapons in the world were at his fingertips, waiting to come out and draw blood. It unnerved even the jounin under his command.

He used the sharpened end to peel away the crust of blood under his nails, one by one, wiping them away on his trench coat.

When he looked up at Hyousuke again, the man gulped. 

“Why don’t you start with what you were doing in the records room?” Ibiki arched a cynical eyebrow. He was going easy on him, he knew, but perhaps this could be resolved without resorting to drastic measures.

“I-I told you! I misplaced a file when I was cleaning earlier that day and—”

“—and you came back to look for it in the dead of the night?” Ibiki gave him a look. “Do I look like a man who takes bullshit,  _ Hyousuke _ ?” he let the name roll off his tongue with just a hint of malice underlying it. 

“N-no, sir!” Hyousuke shuddered, nearly earning a smile out of Ibiki. Sometimes it was just too easy. 

“Let’s try again,” Ibiki offered graciously, twirling the kunai between his fingers. “What were you doing in the Hokage Tower that night, with a pair of keys you should not possess in the first place?”

Hyousuke’s throat undulated, his adam’s apple bobbling. He licked his dry lips, “I …” he began haltingly, seemed to think better of it and clamped his mouth shut. 

Ibiki tilted his head curiously. “You …?”

“... didn’t do anything! I swear! I just wanted to return the file!” Hyousuke bled with renewed desperation.

Ibiki sighed, lowering the kunai down for a moment. “And they say I never give them chances,” he muttered to himself before he fired the kunai at the chained Hyousuke. 

It sheared off the edge of his earlobe and embedded in the concrete behind him. Hyousuke howled as blood splattered the side of his face and his shirt. 

Ibiki waited for him to finish his colourful spiel of profanities. “Well?” Ibiki said again. 

“Fuck you!” Hyousuke spat at him, “Why’d you do that?!”

A knife flickered into Ibiki’s hand, twisting deftly in his lethal fingers. “That  _ is _ a good question, why  _ did _ I do that?”

He weighed the steel in his palm, following the reinforced grip. He admired the way the light glided down the sleek blade. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it at Hyousuke. Faster than the eye could blink, it had already opened a deep cut along his cheek and joined the kunai in the wall behind him. 

Hyousuke growled, struggling against his restraints. “Stop! I told you! I told you!”

Ibiki shook his head with growing disappointment. “We could stay here  _ all _ day,” he drawled, as a senbon made an appearance in between his fingers. 

Hyousuke involuntarily flinched. 

With a twist of Ibiki’s fingers, they became two, and then three, and sat there innocently. “... but I can’t promise you the safety of the rest of your body parts until then. So tell me Hyousuke, are you ready to talk? You know I love a good chat almost as much as I love making people bleed.”

Hyousuke was shaking his head, denial still on his lips. “Please, I-I’m telling you, I was returning the file, I was—”

Ibiki fired the senbon. 

Hyousuke screamed.

* * *

It was a few more hours before Ibiki made it out into the cold December afternoon awaiting him outside the grey, concrete walls of T&I. 

The crunching snow underneath his boots was beginning to melt under the heat. The sun glared white at him off the snow. The weather sucked, but people were out and about, bustling in the streets as they hurried to finish last-minute preparations for Christmas Eve. 

Being one of those people, Ibiki set out for the supermarket. 

People gave him a wide berth, as they usually did, mothers hastily pulling little children out of his way. His scars had always given his face a frightening severity but paired with his status as Head of Interrogation and the blood splatter on his shirt, Ibiki could understand people’s trepidation _ — _ if not outright fear _ — _ around him.

He made peace with the life he led a long time ago. He didn’t seek admiration or respect; those weren’t important in his line of work. Ultimately, it was being feared that made him so good at what he did.

And as long as Konoha needed him to continue to do what he did, he would continue to be the boogeyman, the monster in the dark, or anything else they wanted him to be. 

He made it inside the supermarket with minimal fuss, welcoming the warmer interiors. Judging by the position of the sun it was still two in the afternoon. He still had plenty of time to get everything done. 

First, he headed for the most important supplies. Eggs, milk, flour, and butter were placed in his cart, taking up half of the space as he got several of each item. Cocoa followed, with cream and sugar and countless paper wrappers. 

As Ibiki strolled down the aisle, minding his own business, he came face to face with the one and only Copy Ninja.

It was clear he’d just returned from a mission. If one couldn’t tell by the deplorable state of his uniform, the dark circles under his eyes and the bandage wrapped around his head in place of his hiati-ate were big enough giveaways. 

“Maah, Ibiki, I didn’t expect to run into you this fine morning,” Kakashi drawled from his crouch in front of the canned mushrooms at the bottom shelf. He hadn’t even glanced Ibiki’s way. 

“Hatake,” he acknowledged. “It’s afternoon. You look like shit.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, sweetheart,” he replied merrily as he grabbed a can and rose to his full height. His voice was scratchy and broke in strange places.

His basket contained a single banana and a bag of lemons. He added the mushroom can to it without further comment. 

Ibiki studied him for a moment. Something was … off. He’d seen Kakashi in all walks of life, and yet, something about his current disposition was all wrong. “Are you okay?” he asked gruffly.

Kakashi, of course, completely sidestepped his question by busying himself with peering into Ibiki’s cart. “Huh, that’s a lot of ingredients. Are you … baking? You bake?”

Ibiki rolled his eyes at Kakashi’s cliche tactics of redirection. “No, I wanted to invent a new interrogation tactic that involved eggs and sugar. Of course I’m baking, what else would I do with this god-awful amount of sugar?”

Kakashi snorted stepping away from his groceries. “Celebrating?” he wondered as he turned to walk away. Ibiki fell into step with him for no decipherable reason.

“Something like that,” came Ibiki’s cryptic reply. “Are you?”

“I’m going to go home and crash for an eternity,” Kakashi divulged. 

“Sounds festive,” Ibiki said dryly. “But perhaps consider including a proper meal somewhere on that to-do list.”

“I don’t know, do you plan to include it on your list of sugar and death?” he tossed Ibiki’s cart a judgemental glance. 

Ibiki considered tripping him over with the edge of his boot. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I should take advice from the man who takes his coffee decaf, fully skimmed, soy-free, sugar-free with exactly three calories and a side of bullshit.” 

“You should,” Kakashi advised. “How else do you think I maintain this wonderful booty?”

Ibiki snorted. Kakashi was so full of shit. But his eyes were creased with a smile and he looked somewhat lighter, so Ibiki took it as a win. 

“So it’s true you’ve been taking tips from Gai,” Ibiki goaded, pausing to grab a container of finely ground coffee grains. 

Kakashi twitched. “Think whatever you want to think,” he scoffed and grabbed a coffee container for himself. Decaf. 

Ibiki resisted a grin. “I bet you accepted all these ridiculous challenges so he doesn’t get ahead of you. He has a wonderfully sculpted ‘booty’ after all.”

“Gah,” Kakashi growled with a shudder. “I’m going to ignore that you just described  _ Gai’ _ s butt as ‘wonderfully sculpted’. You’re such a weirdo.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take it as a compliment,” Ibiki snarked. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, a perpetual smile playing at the corner of Ibiki’s lips. Kakashi was full of shit, but he couldn’t deny that his company was fun. 

“Do you need help carrying all that gunk home?” Kakashi asked with another glance at his cart. It was piled full and overflowing. 

“If you’re willing to help,” Ibiki shrugged, “sure.”

They headed for the counter and soon they were both laden with bags and traipsing through the snow outside. 

Kakashi stopped to take a breath of frigid air. “Can’t believe it’s December already.”

“Right?” Ibiki muttered looking up at the cloudy sky. It was clear before he’d walked into the store so he suspected it would start snowing again soon. “Let’s go before it starts snowing.”

Kakashi took another deep breath, “It won’t snow for a few more hours,” he said but followed Ibiki towards his home. 

“Your nose is ridiculous,” Ibiki said.

Kakashi snorted, “You have no idea.”

“Oh?” He glanced at Kakashi to find him staring at a man walking side by side with a woman.

He had a little grimace on his face as he said, “He smells like two women. She’s wearing a ring so I suspect she’s his wife. So I imagine he's cheated.”

Ibiki stared at Kakashi.

“Her,” he motioned his head at a woman admiring a display with her friend down the street. “He smells like her. So she must be the secret lover.”

As if on cue, the two looked at each other from across the street for a fleeting moment, and then quickly away.

“Hatake that’s …” Ibiki began, secretly floored but morbidly curious.

“Ridiculous?” Kakashi supplied, with a cynical eyebrow raise. 

“Yes.” 

Ibiki shook his head and began walking again. God knows what other awful things Kakashi could smell on people. He wondered what it was like to walk the village knowing everything about someone before he even spoke a word to them. Who they’d been with, where they went, what they had for food, all because his monster nose could identify all the scents clinging onto a person. 

He was one hell of a tracker, Ibiki would know, Kakashi’d been sent on countless missions to retrieve escapees and traitors to bring to Ibiki’s darling chair. 

When they arrived at Ibiki’s doorstep, Kakashi took his shoes off at the entrance and wandered into the kitchen by virtue of smell alone, Ibiki guessed, as he followed him. They set the humongous bags down on the counter, Kakashi peeking into them again, as if to confirm that they were their groceries indeed.

He took a single whiff before rounding the counter and grabbing a smaller bag. Ah, Ibiki observed, as Kakashi fished out his banana and started peeling it. 

“So,” Kakashi said, propping himself up on the edge of his counter, “What’re you going to make?”

Ibiki eyed him with disdain. “Can you please use the chair?”

“Why? it’s comfortable here,” Kakashi deflected blithely.

God, he was insufferable, Ibiki thought with a huff and began to empty the bags. 

“I’m making cake, cupcakes, and cookies,” Ibiki responded after a minute of silence in which Kakashi managed to devour the banana without giving a single peek of his face. 

Ibiki had to admit, it was kind of impressive. Not much escaped his notice, after all. 

Kakashi hummed, eyeing his ingredients more closely. “... why?”

He’d wondered if Kakashi would ask. But now that he has he wasn’t entirely sure what to tell him. Ibiki himself struggled to explain it. Except … “They’re for the kids down at the orphanage.”

Kakashi blinked. Ibiki waited for a barrage of questions to follow yet none came. Kakashi simply gazed steadily at him for a moment before shrugging. “Cool,” he said. “Want some help?”

Ibiki had done this every year for the past seven years, he was more than capable of getting it done on his own, but Kakashi was offering, and honestly, he looked like he could use the distraction. Ibiki was yet to know what kind of mission Kakashi was on. “An extra pair of hands isn't so bad.”

Taking his cue, Kakashi pulled off his gloves and rolled up his sleeves. Ibiki observed curiously as he went for the sink and began to thoroughly lather his hands with soap. 

Ibiki went to preheat the oven.

Kakashi scrubbed for so long, Ibiki wondered if his skin would start to peel off. It didn’t. 

Kakashi dried up and took his position at Ibiki’s side, alert and ready. It was harder not to smile now when Kakashi looked like he was preparing for a mission and not for baking some cupcakes. 

He was baking with the head of tactics and interrogation, so Ibiki wasn’t going to fault him too hard … 

He grabbed a bowl. “How extensive is your cooking knowledge?”

Kakashi glanced up thoughtfully. “Pretty decent. What do you want me to do?” Which translated to excellent in the average man’s book. 

He couldn’t resist baiting him a little. “Can you whip the batter?” 

Kakashi stared at him like he grew a second head in the space of a second. “Are you serious right now? I’ve … slaughtered countless enemies, been living on my own since five.  _ Can I whip batter _ _ — _ _ hell _ , I can whip  _ you _ .”

Ibiki rolled his eyes; Kakashi could be so dramatic, but a feeling akin to fondness warmed his chest. “Alright lover boy let’s take it easy now.”

“I bet you’re into that,” Kakashi muttered under his breath as he passed Ibiki the carton of eggs.

“What was that?” he remarked lightly, even though he’d heard him perfectly well. But making people squirm was Ibiki’s favourite pastime (not that Kakashi squirmed easily, but Ibiki was nothing if not determined). 

“I said how many are we making?” Kakashi deadpanned. 

Small pleasures, Ibiki thought with a little headshake. The smile was still there playing at the corner of his mouth. “Three batches of cupcakes.”

“Oh wow, how many kids are there?” Kakashi wondered, perhaps unaware of the utterly deplorable state of the orphanage in Konoha, or simply not grasping the sheer magnitude of how shittily understaffed it was.

“A lot,” Ibiki said, which was a serious understatement. “So whip up.” 

He passed the bowl right back to Kakashi, full of butter, flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. 

They whisked away in silence for a while with Ibiki passing Kakashi things, and Kakashi accepting them wordlessly.

“So where were you this time?” He fished lightly. He’d caught wind of some serious troubles brewing in the south _ — _ it didn’t take a genius to figure out which kind of shinobi were needed for such missions. 

“Mist,” Kakashi responded tonelessly. 

Ah … “I suppose this is about that infiltration mission Shikaku was talking about.”

“Yep,” Kakashi said, lightly popping the P. He knew ‘reluctant’ when he saw it but he couldn’t help prying a little, it was what he did best after all. 

“Shiranui brought back a prisoner last month,” Ibiki divulged. It was the simplest tactic in the book; offer information if you wanted to encourage some in return. “He was posted somewhere at the borders of Mist for six weeks, he was a wreck when he came back too.”

Kakashi twitched; if Ibiki wasn’t watching for it out of the corner of his eye he wouldn’t have noticed. He passed Kakashi another bowl, feigning indifference. “Could have something to do with having a close call with _ —” _

“What’s your play here, Ibiki?” Kakashi looked up sharply.

Ibiki backtracked. “What do you mean?”

“Can you stop psychoanalyzing me?” Kakashi demanded with an arched eyebrow. 

“Is that what you think I’m doing?” Ibiki shook his head, a little disappointed. “I’m giving you an outlet before you go in for a debriefing. Because Tsunade will most definitely put you on leave if she sees you like this.”

Yes, most likely. There were dark circles beneath Kakashi’s eyes but more pronouncedly were the shadows lugging behind his gaze. When Ibiki first saw him he briefly wondered if Kakashi would collapse. 

Kakashi’s mouth pursed under the mask as he continued to whisk the mixture in his bowl. It was already ready, but Kakashi seemed too distracted to notice. 

Eventually, he sighed, “I sent Genma back with that man.”

“... and?” Ibiki pressed gently. 

“He’s scum. Worse than scum. He sold his own daughter to a crime ring. Genma wanted to kill him but I … stopped him.” Ibiki thought that was a heavily edited, small chapter of the whole story, but he nodded. 

“So you feel guilty for letting him live?” Ibiki gently extracted the mixture from Kakashi’s grip and began scrubbing down the bowl to fill a disposable piping bag. 

Kakashi was silent for a long, long moment. “We wanted to know more information about the people he sold his daughter to and knowing we shouldn’t kill him for intel’s benefit we conducted a … an interrogation to extract such information.”

Ah … “You tortured him?”

“Yes.”

“And you feel guilty about that?”

“Not even slightly.” 

Silence befell his kitchen again. That made more sense. 

Ibiki wondered how to approach his next words as delicately as possible. He knew Kakashi was easy to set off, even if the other man rarely let it show when something rankled him. “Look, Hatake … take it from someone who has done this for a really, really long time. Killing your emotions isn’t always a bad thing. It gets the job done. Did you find the daughter?”

“We did,” Kakashi said simply, staring hard at Ibiki’s hands as they poured the batter into the cupcake wrappers. 

“You said it—he’s worse than scum.” Ibiki continued, wishing he was better at this whole comforting people thing. “He deserved whatever you did to him, so don’t waste your guilt on him.”

Kakashi shrugged again. “I don’t feel guilty about  _ him _ . I just … I’m not very proud of the way we handled it.”

Ibiki filled the last wrapper before disposing of the bag. “Then do better next time. At the end of the day, you finished your mission, brought us back some valuable intel and secured us a hefty pay. Konoha comes out on top, that’s the goal.”

Kakashi took another moment to absorb this before nodding slowly. “Yeah … Yeah, you’re right, I know that. It’s just been a very long mission.”

Ibiki smiled as he grabbed the cupcake tray and went to slide it into the oven. “Tell you what. Since I’m a very nice and thoughtful person I’m going to let you use my shower. But on the condition that you deliver those treats with me later today.”

Kakashi gave him a lengthy, probing look but he smirked. “How very noble of you. I guess I’ll just take you up on that offer.”

Eventually, many hours later, when Ibiki exhausted all his purchases and Kakashi had showered and reread the entirety of  _ Icha Icha _ , they set out for their destination. 

“So,” Kakashi asked, as they neared the orphanage. “You didn’t tell me why you’re doing this.”

Ibiki grinned because there it was. He knew Kakashi would eventually ask and thus had prepared what he hoped was an adequate answer. “Let’s just say … It helps me sleep better at night remembering who I’m doing this for.”

“And …?” Kakashi pushed, sensing something more. 

Ibiki’s smile dimmed slightly as they reached the building, softly lit and eerily quiet. “And it reminds me that Konoha is not innocent either.”

Kakashi opened his mouth to say something but they were inside too soon.

“Ibiki-ojisan!” young voices suddenly chorused with excitement.

Kids. Little kids, dressed for bed, just retreating from dinner rounded to face their two visitors. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner, sparsely decorated; the only sign of festivities in the entire place. 

“Hi kids,” Ibiki called warmly, letting Kakashi see a side of him he’d never shared with anyone. He held up the treats. “Who wants some cake?”

The deafening cheers were worth the ringing in his ears as he was ushered by a harried woman to the kitchen. Her smile was deeply grateful and just shy of tears as they began to pave the table with cupcakes and cookies. 

He looked up to see Kakashi watching him with an inscrutable look on his face. 

Ibiki raised an eyebrow.

Kakashi shook his head, and then he smiled, slow and tentative before he approached his side. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Ibiki let a small smile of his own show on his face as kids haggled over the chocolate cupcakes. 

“I do,” Kakashi confirmed, “between the blacks and whites there are a lot of greys.”

“There are,” Ibiki agreed, grabbing a cupcake and passing it to Kakashi. “Now eat up, I made enough for everyone.”

Kakashi watched the cupcake with more reverence than was strictly necessary for such a simple gesture. “Maah … Merry Christmas, Ibiki.”

Something unexpectedly warmed inside Ibiki. He reached forward and clasped Kakashi’s shoulder firmly, “Merry Christmas, Hatake.”

They shared a smile, and then together, with the rest of the delighted kids, they began singing a merry tune. 

The End. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think? Comments mean a lot and are an incredible source of motivation!
> 
> Even an emoji comment means a lot <3


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